Frolicking around Fes

Fes, founded in the late eighth century CE by Idris ibn Abdallah, is a 3-hour train trip from Rabat. Fes, similar to Marrakech, is centred around the old Medina, Fes el Bali, with little laneways and alleys connected to houses and markets. Apparently there are over 900 laneways in the Medina, according to the tour guide that struck up a conversation with us as we waited for the train in Rabat.

We arrived at Fes train station, and as the tour guide in Rabat advised, we headed away from the train station to catch a taxi and avoid the inflated tourist prices. As we walked away, we tried flagging down taxis as they drove by, but most were already taken. One taxi stopped and saw the address and refused to take us. We continued on our way and found another taxi rank but none of the drivers were familiar with the Riad location. Eventually, another driver came along and was willing to take us to our accommodation.

We were dropped off at the Bab Bou Jeloud gate and we walked the five minutes to our Riad, laden like a pack-mule. I’m certain we could get a job within the Medina transporting goods all over the Souk, instead of the donkeys that roam up and down the alleys.

It wasn’t long before a young Moroccan guy came up to us and followed us to our Riad, offering to take us to his mother’s kitchen for food. He stood next to us as the Riad Manager opened the door. The Manager asked if we knew the Moroccan guy and we replied in the negative. Apparently the young guy was part of the Moroccan mafia. Fortunately, he never bothered us again.

We were warned that we would get lost easily in the Medina and that the locals will offer, for a fee, to escort you out. Jason McGoogle had no problems in navigating the streets of the Medina. In fact, the Souk in Marrakech was much more chaotic. At least motorbikes aren’t throughout the Medina; it’s only horses and donkeys that you have to contend with.

We wandered the streets of the Medina in search of some Moroccan wares to bring home. While the spruiking wasn’t as aggressive as Marrakech, the shopkeepers were on the hunt to coax people into their shops.

We stumbled upon three Moroccan women who worked in a perfume and oil shop. We were in need of more Arabic oils so we browsed her merchandise in pursuit of our preferred scents. We introduced ourselves and soon started chatting about all kinds of things. The main shop attendant was Yousra, and she was assisted by Fatima and Hajar. We were our charismatic selves which earned us a discount, although I'm sure it still wasn’t Moroccan prices. The discount was because we were “gentil” (lovely/sweet/charming). Fatima said that I had a “gentil visage” (a lovely face).

Both Yousra and Hajar spoke English, along with Arabic and French, but Fatima only spoke Arabic. With an Moroccan Arabic accent, she said, in English, “I don’t speak English”. Soon she was on Instagram, following Jason. She scrolled through Jason’s feed, liking every post, even before they could load. Internet connection is not great in Morocco, and even worse inside of the markets of the Medina. I think Jason has found his new Moroccan wife to replace the wife he divorced in Marrakech.

Before we walked away with half of her Arabic oils, I noticed that Yousra was wearing braces. We compared notes between old school braces and my Invisalign. When I pulled out the aligners, Fatima countered this with detaching a set of her eye lashes. She had about three or four sets of them, fluttering from her eyes.

I noticed that there seemed to be quite a few people on the streets with braces and wondered if there was good dental care in Morocco. When we struck up a conversation with a guy selling leather goods, he explained that it cost him 2000€, but he had been wearing them for three years because he didn’t have the money during the pandemic to pay for it.

He spoke perfect English, and was on for the chat to improve his speaking. We were only too happy to partake. He was a smart man and had studied sociology at University. Now, he was the store manager of the small shop in the Souk. Another shopkeeper told us that she had studied at University, but it seemed that they couldn't get other jobs outside of the markets. It seemed such a waste of their talents.

The leather guy gave us the lowdown on the Medina. We’re glad that we bought from his shop and didn’t fall victim to a tour group visiting the tannery. Apparently the tour guides get 60% of the cut, and that’s why the prices are so inflated. He even admitted that the sellers set the price based upon a person's nationality. If you are from Australia, UK, USA or Japan, they set the prices much higher.

We finally managed to drag ourselves out of the market carrying our spoils for the day: teapots, tea cosies, glasses, leather belts, and cushion covers (and the list continues … ). The next problem was going to be packing everything, even with the addition of our new backpacks. Let’s hope that everything survives the next leg of our adventure.

Next stop: back to Barcelona.Read more